


Febrile

by blessshea



Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: (emotional) hurt/comfort, 6x02 and onward? re-imagined, Alternate Universe, Angst, Dreams and Hallucinations, F/M, Family Issues, emotional distress, passing mentions of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-29 04:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13919709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessshea/pseuds/blessshea
Summary: **permanently unfinished due to life issues**//Febrile//from the Latin word febris, meaningfever, and archaically known as ague.





	1. Out of the Black

**Author's Note:**

> This is not what I had in mind to produce this month, but here we are anyway....typos are mine. I'll fix them eventually, sorry. 
> 
> Apparently, S6 is determined to hound me. 
> 
> Chapter title is a song by Billie Marten.

  
_there's a ghost, she's wearing my face_  
_at parties being introduced with my name_  
_just a skeleton of bones_  
_wearing nothing but clothes_  
_and she is paralyizing_  
_the human soul is a treacherous place_  
_beneath the masks we wear a dark twisted labyrinth lay_  
_secrets locked and closets closed_  
_never surface while we keep composed_  
_come out of hiding_  
There's a Ghost --Fleurie  


* * *

_...downtown Durant?_

Cady looked around, slowly. She stood on the grass in the middle of the square, her vision completely whited out by a blinding ray of sunlight. 

Her head felt like a million bees were trying to build a nest in her skull and she let herself fold, roughly landing in the damp grass.

What was she doing here? How was she here?

She clenched her eyes shut and tried to focus.

The last thing she remembered was--a big black hole of nothing came to mind then, something like a sting? And blue, the color blue moving, like...water.

Then nothing.

She shot back up but her boots slipped in the grass and she anchored her hands on her knees as she breathed heavily.

 

_You’re in Durant, you’re in the downtown square, just walk to the Sheriff's Office._

With a more clear sense of purpose, Cady began the quick walk off the grass and onto the curving sidewalk, then stopped again abruptly once she passed the trees.

_What. The. Fuck._

She felt a sob of hysteria rise in her throat, but she shoved it down and focused on what was in front of her.

The building where the Busy Bee lived had a sign that read “Shirley’s Sweet Shoppe”, and the coffee place just wasn’t there at all. Even more earth-shaking, where she’d expected to see the Sheriff’s Office she saw tall block letters on the building that declared it the, “Martha A. Longmire Historical Library”.

Stumbling to sit on the nearest bench, Cady pulled her legs up and buried her face in her knees.

She was dreaming. She _had_ to be dreaming.

_This cannot be real._

She unfolded herself and stared across the street at the wrong sign over the building where the Busy Bee was supposed to be. Then she pinched herself, hard.

Nothing.

Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs, but she stood and walked to the roundabout. She paused, then stepped right onto the road into the path of a moving car.

The driver swerved, yelled out the window and continued forward while Cady stumbled back, landing on her hands and knees, half on the sidewalk.

The concrete scraped against her palms, but she pressed her hands into the surface harder and puller herself off the road.

_This is real. This cannot be real._

Her hands twinged viciously, and when she swallowed, her throat felt like sandpaper.

 

Instead of her original plan --find the Sheriff’s Office-- she walked back across the square, heading towards where the historical zoned houses still stood.

Cady started to catalogue the differences in her head between her Durant, and whatever this Durant was when she stumbled upon another big oddity. Where she expected to see Dr. Lott’s Queen Anne house circa 1906, she found a cemetery, just as old by the look of headstones in the front.

Like the concrete in the square, the bricks felt solid and the iron of the gates left residue on her hands when she passed through them. She got to the middle of the cemetery and noticed that the headstones were now larger, and newer. There were a few angelic statues amongst the rows and particularly vengeful looking one was making her feel very unwelcome.

She considered turning back, but a familiar form caught her eye and she moved forward briskly.

Any relief she temporarily felt was crushed into dust when Henry turned around. Instead of welcoming her with a smile, he cut her with a frown and a quiet, “Do I know you?”

Cady managed to stop her mouth from blurting out ‘Yes,’ but her brain practically short-circuited and she pressed her fingers to her lips. Trying to pull herself together she looked down and got a glimpse of the headstone he stood in front of.

_Catherine “Cat” Longmire  
B April 2, 1985 D August 9, 2013_

“Cat was my goddaughter. How did you know her?”

Henry’s kind-hearted attempt at conversation was like a well-aimed gut punch, and she felt herself get lightheaded. Apparently, this Henry wasn’t too different from hers because he grasped her arm and led her to a nearby granite bench.

“Sorry,” she choked out, trying to regain her composure.

Henry patted her knee and handed her a handkerchief. “No need to apologize. Everyone handles grief differently. Her father gets a bit depressed around election time.”

Cady felt his gaze focus on her face --she could practically sense that he was trying to figure her out. “Election time?” It comes out before she could stop herself and she’s got her fingers crossed he won’t be too suspicious that she’s asked something she should already know.

“She was hit by a drunk driver on election day…” he paused mid sentence, probably wondering why she jumped up and lurched forward like a crazy person to drop down in front of the grave.

_Some other version of me? She thought, and her hands shook as she traced the birth date. One month exactly after mine._

“You look like you need a cold beverage.”

His ‘you won’t argue with me’ voice was the same as her Henry. Cady nodded before she realized it and took his offered hand, not even bothering to knock the dirt off her jeans.

  
The walk back into downtown was almost normal, although Henry apparently assumed she was from out of town, and he spent 10 minutes regaling her with the history of Durant.

Her list of ‘wrong’ had got longer by the time they stopped in front of the sweet shop, and she kept her eyes focused on Henry to avoid being affected by the building’s sign.

“You should sit,” Henry suggested, gesturing to a nearby cafe table and chairs. “I am just going to go in and grab you a bottle of water; the Sheriff only keeps coffee and pop in stock.”

He disappeared into the shop before she could reply,’Hell no.’, and she stood, her back pressed against the brick building.

_It’s still real, you’re still here._

It probably took him 10 minutes, but by the time Henry appeared again, she’s managed to calm herself down, at least temporarily.

The water tasted just like she poured it from her kitchen sink, and she chugged the whole bottle by the time they walked ten feet, turned a corner, and arrived at the familiar glazed glass door to the Sheriff’s Office.

Henry -- _not her Henry_ \-- pulled the door open, and Cady was a bit surprised to see no stairs; instead, sprawled out before her was a tastefully decorated room and a large hanging sign to her left read “Help Desk”’.

Her memory of how she got here was still fuzzy, but the rest of her brain processed in perfect working order. Which, of course, was exactly why she stupidly opened her mouth when the wrong pair of blue eyes greeted her and Henry.

“Lucian?”

History with Connally men aside, it still stung like hell to see the confused look pass over the same face that used to smile brightly at her cross rail jumps.

“I heard, um, people talking while I was waiting outside the sweet shop,” she lied when both men looked at her oddly.

She avoided meeting Henry’s gaze --in case this Henry was a good lie detector, too-- and focused her eyes on Lucian’s silk and wool vest, under his regular leather shoulder holster.

“And what’s yer name, little darlin’?” Lucian asked, before adding, “Since ya know mine.”

Cady cleared her throat, feeling her lungs shudder. “Cady,” she replied, letting her eyes flicker over her honorary uncle’s face and seeing no sign of recognition.

“And, we need to see Walt if you do not mind calling him,” Henry interrupted gently.

With a nod at Henry and a hat tip at her, he disappeared through a door, and Cady felt Henry gently touch her wrist. When she finally managed to get her shit together again she found Henry studying her more openly before he gestured down the nearest hallway.

“We should go this way,” Henry said, taking just a step forward and then waiting for her. “Cady is a very unusual name,” he continued, as they walked side by side.

Before she could think of how to even begin to respond, a door opened, and she felt her heart clench in her chest. Seeing her dad at work, or otherwise, over the last few months had been strained and awful,, but to see her dad’s gaze move over her so unknowing was a surreal moment. For a second, she thought she might vomit, but she choked down the feeling and shrunk back a bit, edging near Henry.

A look passed between the two men, and Cady didn’t even bother trying to read it. Instead, she looked to the wall right past Walt. The black letter board had all the names she expected to see: Walt, Vic, Ferg, Zach, and a few that knocked the breath out of her, like Branch, and Asha.

“Why don’t you step into my office.” Walt’s voice permeated her newest shock, and she followed behind Henry, looking nowhere else but her boots.

 

It was oddly comforting yet unnerving that her dad’s office was exactly the same. He sat down behind the same large desk, flanked by a singular floor-to-ceiling bookcase. The leather couch she’d spent countless hours on was the same she’d settled into now.

Cady zoned out as her eyes tracked across the room, counting objects. Henry and Walt whisper tightly to each other and she ignored it, focused on finding the difference.

Her eyes land back on Walt’s desk. She shouldn’t be surprised but where a picture of her and her mom normally lived, was a picture not of her and her mom. Dark chestnut hair, a fair freckled face, their eyes are the same and the smile is, too, but the other her? is not as tall, only coming up to their? Mom’s shoulder.

“It’s Cady, right?” Walt asked.

It felt like she was on a crash course to an emotional explosion. She managed to nod her head at Walt, but any worded response is lodged in her throat, refusing to come out.

“Where are you from?”

Cady almost wanted to laugh, but it was mixed with the urge to cry until her body was drained of liquid, and neither was a good option in this scenario. Somehow she became a stranger to two of the most important people in her life.

She only got out a strained, “I don’t...” when the door opened.

She really, _really, shouldn’t_ have been surprised. Of course, she’d have to endure the trifecta containing the three most important people in her life while in this hellish reality where she didn’t exist.

Walt stood when she did and the whole room seemed to tip over. Her voice seemed determined to not work though, and she looked at Walt’s sullen face with a sense of dread. “What brings you here, Mayor Blankenship?”

Cady blinked, and she felt the whole room shudder. She focused her gaze, sliding her eyes up the face she’d spent months studying, and then somehow everything snapped.

_It was like free falling in slow motion. This Jacob’s face wasn’t calm and aloof though. He looked frantic and angry, and his voice carried on the wind, “Hang on Cady.” His fingers just grazed hers before her back met the water. It was so cold her lungs burned, and she heard distorted shouting. A dark shadow appeared above and the water rippled._

Walt’s office.

She still stood in Walt’s office. Water was running down her body, it dripped off her fingers and rolled off her boots, seeping into the cracks of the hardwood floor.

No one’s noticed the puddle she’s created, and her heart raced under her damp shirt as Jacob sighed and clamped his hand around an empty chair in front of Walt’s desk.

“There’s a Cheyenne saying, that you never arm your enemies. Perhaps you’ve heard it before Sheriff?”

Everything went white.


	2. Riptide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to **jackandsamforever** for spoiling herself to whip my shit into shape, muah!.  
>  any remaining errors are mine or a product of a03's edit system.

_I said to the sun, “Tell me about the big bang.”_  
_The sun said, “It hurts to become.”_  
-Andrea Gibson

* * *

“I’m so fucking glad you’re still here.”

Mandy’s voice cracks at the end of her sentence and Cady meets her gaze in the mirror of the hospital bathroom. Her hands shake over the faucet handles, and she drops them down to grip the countertop, her eyes blurry with tears.

“Me too, kiddo.” she says, fat tears dripping down her cheeks.

The room reverberates with their tear-filled breathing and she hovers her hands over the faucet handles again. Mandy makes a noise in her throat that sounds like a growl and yanks her back, steering her to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. Her hand is warm under Cady’s chin, tilting her face up and Cady enjoys the weirdly comforting feeling of a makeup sponge being pressed gently against her face.

“Don’t be an idiot.” Mandy says after a few seconds of silence, her dark brown eyes flashing under the fluorescent, humming lights.

A stubborn coil blooms in Cady’s chest and she swallows painfully, “I’m not,” she insists, knowing she full well she is actually being _incredibly_ idiotic.

“Dr. Weston said you were going to have a phobia about it for a while, even on that lexa shit and whatever.” Mandy continues, as if Cady never spoke. “...and considering how fast you almost ripped that nurses arm off when she spilled that water on you earlier, you might wanna give it rest.”

Cady scowls and avoids Mandy’s eyes, concentrating on the purple and blue fingerprint-shaped bruises lingering on her forearms alongside puncture holes where multiple IV’s had also been just mere hours ago.

“Roll down the sleeves and I’ll button them.”

Mandy’s voice sounds like she could cry again, and Cady immediately complies, breathing deep when her ceremonial adoptive sister steps closer. “You think they’ll still make you sign an AMA?” Mandy asks, after she buttons both of Cady’s sleeves at the wrist and begins dumping makeup back into its travel bag.

Cady isn’t sure she cares at all what she has to sign and shrugs her uninjured shoulder. “I don’t know, maybe, probably. It wouldn’t be the first time though.”

Mandy nods and holds the duffel bag she’d brought open, allowing Cady to shove her discarded clothes in and the zipper sliding echoes in the small space.

\-- -- --

Dr. Weston is sitting on her empty hospital bed, and he smiles weakly as she emerges from the bathroom, Mandy trailing behind her. He’s got a clipboard in his hands, and his face is serious. “This isn’t the worlds best idea Cady,” he says, shifting awkwardly. “You’re still having occasional tachycardia and the Lexapro and the antihistamine have only been in your system for 12 hours. Just because the half-life for the peyote/tetracycline cocktail has passed doesn’t mean you’re in the free and clear.”

Mandy shakes her head, as if to say, _good luck with that_ , and she steps around the bed, shaking awake a sleeping Henry who’s crammed on a loveseat in the corner.

Cady clenches her jaw a bit, trying to ignore the annoyance she’s feeling while she processes Dr. Weston’s speech. She sighs, then holds out her hand. “What if I promise to come back in tomorrow morning?” He hands over the clipboard after a moment, and nods, though he still has a pained look on his face.

“I’ll hold you to it,” he says, standing and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ll have the numbers for the exposure therapists ready by then, so it works out.”

Cady manages to get out a flat, “Mmmhmm,” and hands the paperwork back over; not really in the mood to re-hash her almost drowning again anytime soon. Dr. Weston gives her a sympathetic look.

He seemingly hesitates, and Cady watches his hand tighten around the clipboard. “Do your best to avoid majorly stressful situations for the next few days,” he says finally.

Cady wants to laugh in his face, but she knows it would be physically painful, and rude, so she swallows the sound and dips her head in acknowledgment.

The door closes behind him without any further conversation, and Cady looks across the room to see Mandy staring at the closed door incredulously, while Henry is sliding on his jacket.

“Does he live in a fucking bubble?” Mandy asks the room.

\-- -- --

“Are you sure this is the way you want to handle this summons?” Henry asks an hour later, his voice filling up the quiet car.

Cady takes a deep, shuddering breath, ignoring the way her lungs painfully expand, “Yes,” she replies, turning her head to look at him. “You don’t have--,” she stops herself, and a snippet of her drug-induced hallucination flares to life in her memory. “You shouldn’t have to pick sides,” she says finally, shoving her feelings of unworthiness down deep.

To her surprise Henry doesn’t make his normal speech about how he’s on both of their sides, instead, she feels the car slow down, and she watches the fence line out her window come to a crawl, and then it stops completely.

“Cady Anne Longmire.”

She’s not sure she’s ever heard Henry sound so pissed off in her entire life, this is beyond when he found her drunk -both times- and her stomach drops into her feet. Cady turns her head towards Henry again and licks her chapped lips while the faint sound of Mandy whispering, “Oh boy.” floats into her ears.

“I made a vow to your parents, God, and the universe, 32 years ago that I would protect you and guide you….” Henry stops, running his fingers through his hair. They stare at each other for a heartbeat and he sighs, “You know I agree with you that he has been taking things too far lately.”

_Too far_ , she mouths to herself, thinking about Walt showing up at her office on the Rez, manipulating her into doing his misguided biding.

Her face must be registering her thoughts because Henry quickly reaches out and grabs her hands, “ Jacob is fine Cady, I would not lie to you. I am on your side.”

Her face burns hot in embarrassment for a moment, she hates being so easy to read. Then she remembers that Jacob was shot after saving her from drowning and then resuscitating her, and her heart climbs into her throat.

“Ok,” she chokes out, and Henry steers the car back onto the road.

Cady curls back into the seat, jumping a bit when she feels Mandy’s hand on her arm; her fingers sliding down until their hands are intertwined in solidarity.

\-- -- --

By the time Henry turns onto the dirt and gravel road that leads to the Rez Sheriff’s Office, she’s somewhere between mentally exhausted and fired up on fumes.

Cady squints, staring hard out the front window watching the building form on the horizon, along with what feels like an overabundance of black SUVs.

“Fucking delightful,” Mandy whispers, her fingers tightening around Cady’s.

Henry pulls into the parking lot and Cady feels her heart rate go up. Walt’s Bronco is parked nearby and he’s standing opposite Mathias, with Ferg and Zach offset behind him. She cranes her head and is surprised to see Vic, not in uniform, but in a hoodie and jeans, her aviators perched on her face.

Mandy slides her fingers away and Cady can hear her seatbelt click; a dark curtain of hair swings into her face and then Mandy’s lips are pressed against her temple briefly. “I got your back,” she says, and Cady reaches back to squeeze Mandy’s arm as she climbs out of the truck.

“I need a minute,” she says to Henry, watching him shove his door open.

She turns her face away, and sounds of the parking lot mostly disappear once the door shuts.

She realizes, she’s still a bit slow on the uptake apparently, that there’s a wall of tribal cops between her and Walt, the latter who’s still staring down Mathias with his standard aggravated face.

Vic suddenly starts walking towards them, and Cady watches her former roommate shove her multi-chrome aviators into her hair, stepping in between Mathias and Walt. She’s saying something over her shoulder to Walt, and he gives her a shrug and lumbers off to stand closer to the sidewalk into the building. Vic turns back to Mathias and says something to him as well, and pulls up her hoodie. Cady blinks, confused for a moment, and then frowns. Not only is Vic completely out of uniform, she’s not even carrying her gun.

It seems she appeased Mathias though because he steps aside and lets her walk past him, and Cady clutches the door handle when it hits her that Vic is heading right for her.

Slowly, she presses the window button down and lets all the sound roar back into her headspace; it almost hurts. Vic pulls her hands out of the pockets of her hoodie and slightly raises them as she gets within arms reach.

“It’s just…” Vic says, then stops and lets out a deep breath.

“Yeah,” Cady agrees, dragging her fingers against her jeans.

Vic nods and steps off the sidewalk, leaning against the door of the truck. She angles her body so Cady can still see past her and shoves a hand in her blonde hair, looking towards where Walt is standing momentarily. “So you signed an AMA...no surprise there. The Feds were going to come up and take your statement tonight…”

Cady’s having a hard time emotionally as it is, so she avoids Vic’s sympathetic eyes and focuses on studying the worn cuffs of Vic’s clearly most loved sweater. “Yeah, you know how us Longmire’s are,” she jokes, cringing at the developing hoarseness of her voice.

Vic snorts and her fingers curl around the door frame. Cady sees a familiar thin plastic bracelet looped around Vic’s wrist. She straightens up in the seat, finally looking up to see Vic’s face.

“Are you ok?!”

Vic whole face crumples a bit at Cady’s question but she nods, “No. I mean, it’s been a hellish seventy-two hours, to say the least, but I’m still here. I’m not ok in the slightest, but I don’t have time for that right now.”

Cady can feel tears welling in her eyes and she half laughs, half cries in agreement, which immediately turns into painful hoarse gasping sounds as her lungs protest. Vic watches her, and Cady can see Vic counting seconds on her watch while she focuses on regaining her ability to breathe. “I can relate,” she says, once her chest stops feeling like it’s going to cave into her body and crush her.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, I know this sounds like a shitty excuse but… Cady, he’s so worried about you. He just wants to talk.” Vic says, tucking herself more into the open window when a strong gust of wind blows.

She doesn’t need Vic to specify which ‘he’ she’s talking about.

“Even if…” Cady stops and looks into Vic’s face for a moment. “Let me out,” she continues, gesturing for Vic to back away.

Cady pushes the heavy door open, holding it open with her foot, then reaches behind her and yanks a sweater out of the duffle bag, and grabs her phone.

It was weird being out and upright when she left the hospital, and it’s not any less weird here, although she feels safe on the Rez, where she’s at least out of Walt’s legal and physical reach - mostly.

“You’re not my dad’s personal message deliverer. He can tell me whatever he wants when he’s done being an unbelievable jackass,” Cady says, turning to face Vic, knowing Ferg’s lip reading skills are only second to hers. Vic smothers a laugh while Cady pulls on her sweater.

\-- -- --

Mathias is at her back as she enters the small sheriff's office, and it doesn’t take long at all for her to spot the handful of FBI agents loitering around.

He stops her at the check-in desk and looks her in the eye, his normal mask of amused indifference down for a moment. “You sure? I mean, Walt already told them he’d handle taking your statement. Then I figured he’d pissed you off about something when Henry called me.”

“This isn’t his case anymore,” Cady counters tiredly, “And plenty of people are pissed at him these days, not that that’s a surprise.”

Mathias nods, shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and tilts his head. “Let’s go then.”

The hallways of the Rez Sheriff Office aren’t hard to navigate and Cady shoots what she hopes is a confident smile at Henry and Mandy when she passes Mathias’s office and sees them tucked into his chairs.

She sends a brief prayer into the universe that Mathias doesn’t lead them to the same holding room she waited in when she shot J.P., and she sighs, relieved, ten seconds later when they pass right by it.

Two FBI agents are casually occupying the room when they enter and Cady hangs back, watching Mathias chitchat briefly.

The agent closest to her looks familiar. He catches her eyes and gives her an easy smile, triggering her memory. “Agent Daniels, right?” The rooms attention is focused on her now, and she scrambles a bit, “I just -- you look --”

“You’re right,” Daniels interrupts. He gestures to a chair, “I’d say it's a pleasure, but we always seem to meet when things are going sour.”

Cady sits, looking up at Mathias with wide eyes when he presses his hand into her shoulder.

“They’re kicking me out, but Kevin Morris is here, per Jacob’s instructions. Do you want him in here?”

She knows she’s going to get chewed out later, but she shakes her head no, then verbalizes it just to make sure she’s being clear. “No.”

They start with incidental questions and statements - _do you give consent for this interview taping, state your full legal name, what’s today’s date_ \- and build into the sensitive ones - _where were you on July 18th at 2:11pm, have you ever heard of a man named Shane Muldoon, when did Sheriff Walter Longmire inform you of the threats against you and Deputy Victoria Moretti, what’s the nature of your relationship with Jacob Nighthorse, state your injuries received during the altercation at Jacob Nighthorse's residence, what is your current health status._

She feels like a threadbare cloth hung out to dry. She raises an eyebrow, giving the agents a look that she hopes doesn’t quite say, _maybe do your fucking job and get my file delivered to you_. “Well, considering I was shot with a repurposed tranq dart,” she starts sarcastically, “and then almost drowned, would you like a list in alphabetical order, or in order of seriousness?”

The agent she’s met before smirks for a millisecond and slides the pad of paper across the table towards her. “You can write it down if that helps,” he says, kindly.

Cady snorts. “Sorry, but I think I’ll let you guys transcribe instead.” She closes her eyes and breathes for a moment, then uses a focal point in the back of the room to watch. The constant eye contact is mentally exhausting. “Current status is as follows,” she pauses just for a heart beat, clenching her hands together in her lap. “ I’ve been flushed of the cocktail that was put into the reused tranq dart. Unfortunately, I had to come down off the peyote induced hallucinations on my own. My allergic reaction to tetracycline is being countered, and I’m currently on Lexapro for what’s looking like a situational induced phobia, thanks to the almost drowning. Oh, can’t forget the tachycardia.”

“Jesus Christ,” one of the agents mutter. “This _is_ Wyoming, not downtown Chicago, right?”

The sound of paper shuffling fills the room and Cady looks over at the video camera, surprised to see Agent Daniels turning it off.

“You’re free to go,” he says.

\-- -- --

Her dad’s gone. It’s the first thing she notices when they step outside.

Ferg and Zach are standing together next to Ferg’s Firebird and she gives them a low wave, grabbing at Henry’s sleeve. He knows what she’s going to say before she even opens her mouth it seems, and he nods. “5 minutes,” he says.

Cady rolls her eyes at his protectiveness. The walk across the parking lot is quick and Ferg grins at her, gesturing towards Zach, who’s back in a deputy uniform.

“This is Zach, you guys met a few months ago,” Ferg says, giving her a fond smile. “I’m really glad you’re ok.”

“I remember,” she replies, hoping she’s not too awkward. “And, I’m fine. I’m a Longmire,” she deadpans.

Ferg’s laugh echoes around them. “Nice try.”

His soft tone brings tears to her eyes, and she gives his arm an affectionate squeeze. “I gotta go,” she says after clearing her throat. “I’ll see you guys around.”

Just like she suspected, Henry’s got the truck running and her door open. Cady slides into the familiar seat and takes a few painful deep breaths. She could use a twenty hour nap. She could probably use a real shower too, and not oversized wet wipes, but she’s not in the mood to process through that yet.

Henry curses under his breath and jams his cellphone into the cup holder. Her eyebrows raise and she turns her head, watching him as he navigates them down the main Rez road. “Wanna share why you’re so riled up?”

“Did you see Malachi during the mess at Jacob’s?” He asks tightly, jamming the truck into 2nd gear.

Cady blinks. She’d almost forgotten about that. It’d been one of the first things she’d actually remembered upon waking up. “I’m like 75% sure,” she starts slowly, “I mean, things happened really fast, Jacob would be a better person to ask in all honesty.”

Henry goes quiet and she hears gravel fly violently off the road. Mandy’s aunt’s house is ahead on the left, but a strange nervous feeling is curling itself up in her stomach. “You won’t be dropping me off here, will you?” she asks in rusty French.

Everyone lurches forward when the truck comes to a stop, and Mandy sighs theatrically. “If you don’t bring her back to me tonight, I’m going to do karaoke at the Red Pony twice a week for the next six months.” The truck's door slams behind her, and Mandy taps the glass on Cady’s window. “You better call me,” Mandy says loudly. Cady nods her head in reply.

“Ok, what now,” she asks. They’ve been back on the road for 5 minutes and they’re heading back to the part of the rez where the few government buildings lay.

Henry looks somewhere between guilty and angry, and Cady frowns. “We’ve always had a judgment free zone,” she reminds him, “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“It is a long story, which you will probably hear this evening,” he begins, and they stop to let a few stray deer cross the road. “But, Jacob and I might have banished Malachi off the Rez and blackmailed him into giving me back the Red Pony.”

Her chest hurts from wanting to laugh or cry, she can’t decide which, and she can’t stop her mouth from dropping open. “We’re going to the tribal council.”

“Oui.”

Cady leans her head against the window and lets her eyes flutter shut, digesting the load of information she’s been handed. She’s not sure if it's been five minutes or fifty but Henry’s voice is calling her gently and she cracks one eye. “We are here,” he says, cutting the engine with a sigh.” We are also early. I am going to take a walk, but you should head inside.”

She stands in the parking lot, just enjoying the warmth of sun before looking around and spotting a familiar silver car, parked three spots down.

Her stomach drops and she feels slightly nauseous. She hasn’t seen Jacob since she stormed onto his property, her dad’s words swimming around her head in all their self-righteous glory. They’d argued about Henry’s disappearance and she remembers calling him a _goddamn liar_.

Then there’s the whole drug-induced world she’d thought was real.

She swallows down the urge to be sick and attempts to pull herself together. It had all gone straight to hell not long after that. She’d been following Jacob up to the house to discuss Walt’s accusations when they’d been ambushed. In the minutes before the FBI had swarmed the place, he’d gotten shot by one of Shane’s men; not that she’d been really conscious for that.

Her words to Ferg had mostly been a joke, but there was some layer of truth to it. _At least you know how to say the words, ‘I’m sorry’_ , she thinks, pushing the front doors open.

Cady wanders around the quiet and seemingly empty building for a few minutes, then stops in the bright hallway, and admires a shadow box housing a pair of beaded moccasins. Truth be told, she’s never been in this part of the building, and she’s a bit lost.

Which of course is exactly when she hears Jacob’s voice, and he’s not far away.

Her body is trembling, and it’s toss up between adrenaline and the fact that she’s pretty sure she hasn’t eaten anything in 8 hours. A set of double doors are open, and she turns to find a large room, filled with chairs, a podium, and a semi-circular table. It takes her by surprise that the person she makes eye contact with isn’t Jacob, but May Stillwater, her adoptive aunt, and Mandy’s real aunt.

May meets her at the doorway. One shaky breath later and all Cady can smell is a mix of myrrh and clay, and it’s perfectly comforting. The best thing about May is she can almost read Cady as well as Henry. “I’m going to go make you a cup of hot tea and find you some crackers,” May says in a whisper, their faces still gently pressed together. “It’ll take at least twenty minutes,” May continues in a low voice once they separate.

May is gone before she can really reply, and Cady lingers in the doorway. Ignoring her body’s urge to flee, she takes a few steps into the room and is immediately rewarded with the sight of Jacob.

He’s sitting a few chairs into the third row, eyes closed. She stops and feels lightheaded as she watches him breathe, in, out, in, out. Seeing him alive and - _right there_ \- sets off an overwhelming amount of contradictory emotions, and Cady feels tears overflow in her eyes and run down her cheeks in hot streaks, dripping down her collarbone. She can hear her breathing get loud, and all of her earlier adrenaline drains away like the tide going out. She shoots a hand out to grip the back of a chair so she doesn’t fall over.

She ducks her head to stare at the carpet, trying to get a hold of herself, but she can hear him walking towards her. To her utter shock, one of his hands slides around her body and pulls her more upright, and into him. She hasn’t exactly been touch starved, but everyone’s been tiptoeing around her like she’s made of barely glued together glass; and it’s a bizarre feeling of relief to finally feel someone’s hands firmly pressing against her body.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeats. Her throat throbs and her voice is fading, but she keeps saying it and clenches her hand into Jacob’s jacket, pressing her face into his shoulder. He smells like a mix of hospital and fading cologne.

His other hand cups the back of her head briefly, then he runs his fingers through her hair before his hand settles on the back of her neck. “Hey, it’s ok Cady,” he says lowly in her ear. She feels her body start to shake, and he tightens his grip on her waist. “We’re ok,” he says, running his hand from her neck down her back and up again, avoiding her injured shoulder.

It almost feels like the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on posting this until Monday but my husband is having surgery on Tuesday and I'll be stressed about that for a while, and I figured, might as effing well...otherwise it just sits in docs and that's dumb.
> 
> Since I have real life shit happening I can't say when I'll update after this, but I'm about 400 words in so there's that.


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